


breathing is a gift

by HuiLian



Series: Whumptober 2020 [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Chemical Pneumonia, Chronic Pain, Gen, ONE paragraph of duke thomas, Whump, Whumptober 2020, dick spent his childhood breathing in toxins and fear gasses, he's gonna have some issues with his lungs, mentions of Alfred Pennyworth - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:01:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26953297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HuiLian/pseuds/HuiLian
Summary: The moment Dick wakes up, he knows that it’s going to be a bad day. He can feel the tinges of pain on his chest and he knows that it’s just going to get worse as he starts to gain consciousness. He takes a few shallow breaths, trying not to further irritate his lungs.A childhood filled with inhaling fear gasses and pollens and other various toxic fumes is going to catch up with him eventually. And it did.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947091
Comments: 24
Kudos: 140
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	breathing is a gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AuroraKant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/gifts).



> aurora asked for chemical pneumonia, and when i asked whether she wants it acute or chronic, she says chronic, like i knew she would XD (we love torturing dick)
> 
> again, time is an illusion, so have no. 13: chemical pneumonia!  
> hope you like it, aurora!

The moment Dick wakes up, he knows that it’s going to be a bad day. He can feel the tinges of pain on his chest and he knows that it’s just going to get worse as he starts to gain consciousness. He takes a few shallow breaths, trying not to further irritate his lungs. 

A childhood filled with inhaling fear gasses and pollens and other various toxic fumes is going to catch up with him eventually. And it did. 

The new kids have no idea how lucky they are to have a rebreather that works perfectly in most cases. 

Dick doesn’t want to wake up. He wants to stay in this dazed state, where the pain cannot reach him. But he knows he must. 

Get the oxygen mask. The thought is automatic by now, courtesy of years and years of dealing with this. He knows he has a lot of them. Only a foolish vigilante doesn’t have a stock of oxygen masks. In their line of work, it’s basically a necessity. 

Dick rolls over, hoping to get up without further jarring his lungs, but his lungs don’t cooperate. The moment Dick moves, they decide that they want to cause as much pain and discomfort as possible. Dick grits his teeth and continues the laboured process of getting up. 

Get the oxygen mask. And then… if he can… get the meds. 

Where did he put his meds again?

No. Oxygen mask first. Dick pulls himself upright. 

That was a mistake. His chest, already screaming in pain, protests this new development so much. Every breath he takes feels like his chest is being crushed by a hundred-ton boulder. 

He can just stop breathing for a while, can’t he? He can hold his breath for seven minutes, after all. It’ll ease the pain, to not have to breathe.

No. Bad idea. As much as his lungs protest breathing, they protest _not_ breathing even more. Dick tries a few breaths, breathing as shallowly as possible. The pain subsides, a little bit. 

Okay. Okay, Dick can work with that. He has pushed against his limit for pain hundreds of times, after all. What’s one more? 

Why did he put his mask so far away from his bed again? 

Oh right. He put it next to his patrol entryway, because if he is dosed with something on patrol, he wants it as close as possible when he comes in. 

Good thinking. Just not ideal for now. 

Dick grits his teeth and takes a few steps, walking towards his first aid kit. He manages to get about halfway there the pain becomes too much to bear and he has to stop.

Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

The distance between where he is and the medkit is too far for his aching body to cover. But the distance to the bed is even farther. 

No choice, or, more precisely, no _good_ choice. Dick sways in place for a while, trying to get the pain to subside just enough for him to continue the walk. 

One. Two. Three. Dick counts his breaths, as shallow as they are. 

At the eleventh count, it’s as good as it can get. Dick looks at the cabinet where his medkit is stored and he gathers his entire willpower. He’s going to get there. 

Move one leg. Breathe slowly. Move the other leg. Ignore the pain building again in his chest. 

Slowly, _painstakingly_ , Dick reaches the cabinet. He wants more than anything to just collapse there, but he can’t. His objective hasn’t been done yet. 

What was he searching for, again?

Oh, right. The oxygen mask. But it’s so far up. It’s so far up, and Dick cannot force his body to move anymore. 

He still has his emergency beacon, right? He doesn’t want to use it, doesn’t want to force any of his family to come just for something as insignificant as this, but Dick can feel himself succumbing further and further to the pain. 

Dick tries moving his arm to reach the oxygen mask, a last-ditch attempt to not call anyone, but even lifting his hand from his lap makes his chest burn. Okay, this is not going to work. 

He has an emergency beacon inside his medkit, right? 

But it’s as far away as the mask. 

He has another one in his suit, but it’s also so far away, and Dick cannot move from where he is anymore. The burning on his lungs has spread to his throat, and he can even feel hints of it on his mouth and nose. 

Medkit. Closest. He can get the emergency beacon _and_ the mask. 

He’ll do that, as soon as he can lift his arm. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Dick counts his breaths again, hoping that it will give him the willpower he needs to get through this. 

Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Breathe. Ignore the pain. 

Nine. Ten. Eleven. Just one more thing to do, and then you can tap out, Dick. 

Twelve. Thirteen. Dick lifts his arm, pushing the pain to the deepest part of his brain. Medkit. Medkit. 

His hand hits the medkit, and he shoves it. He doesn’t have the energy or focus to grab it. The contents of his medkit fall to the ground. 

Dick spots the oxygen mask, landing just in front of him. Dick extends his leg and half kick, half shove it to his lap. 

Okay, Dick. One more time. Bring your hand to your lap and take the mask. Lift your hand and put the mask on your face. You can do this. 

The mask is on. Good. Dick tries breathing in just a touch deeper than he was doing before, testing if the pain gets worse or not. 

It’s not worse, but it’s barely better. 

Oh well. As long as it’s not worse. 

What does he have to do, now? 

Right. Beacon. Where is it? 

Dick opens the eyes he doesn’t even know he’s closed and scans the floor around him. It must be here somewhere. 

There! And it’s close enough to his foot that Dick doesn’t have to reach to hit it!

Small mercies. 

Dick lifts his foot and slams it on the beacon. He hopes he hits it. He doesn’t have any more strength to do anything else. 

Dick leans his head to the wall and waits. 

***

Dick wakes with the distinct feeling that he’s no longer alone in this room. It’s a skill he has perfected over years of being a vigilante. 

Wait. Why is he on the bed?

He lifts his eyes only to see Duke sitting next to his bed. 

“Hey, are you feeling better?” Duke asks. How does he… Oh, right. His powers. He probably knows Dick is waking up before Dick himself knows it. 

“What?” Dick manages to whisper. 

“You’re lucky l was in the Cave when your beacon rang.” Duke pauses, before continuing, “And that Alfred was there. He is going back to the Manor to get more of your anti-inflammatory drugs, by the way.”

“Oh.”

“Oh, shit!” Duke exclaims. “Do you want some more painkillers? I was supposed to ask you that as soon as you wake up.”

Dick hums. His chest doesn’t feel like bursting out anymore, so Alfred probably already gave him a dose of painkillers. Dick tries breathing in, and the burning on his airways doesn’t feel like hellfire anymore. 

It still feels like fire, but not hellfire. He’ll manage. 

Dick shakes his head, not feeling like talking. Duke seems to understand, because he nods and settles back into his seat. 

Dick takes a few more breaths, enjoying how his chest can expand without feeling like an elephant is sitting on top of it. He’s okay. He’s in his apartment, his newest little brother next to him, and his pseudo-grandfather is going to be here in a while. 

He’s okay, for now.

And if this is definitely going to happen again in the future? Well, Dick has learned long ago to live with it. That’s the price for being a hero, after all. 

The rebreather sits on Duke’s belt, the latest version in Dick’s ever-expanding attempts at updating them to make damn sure that none of his little siblings experience this kind of pain, and it taunts Dick with its presence. He ignores it. 

He has learned to live with the pain, after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos give me the sustenance to write, please, i am starving....  
> check out my tumblr if you want more of this nonsense (huilian.tumblr.com)


End file.
